


Rosey Dawn

by MalEldil



Category: Classical Greece and Rome History & Literature RPF, Greek and Roman Mythology, Steampunk - Fandom, The Aeneid - Virgil
Genre: Alternate Universe - Steampunk, F/M, Gen, Trojan War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-22
Updated: 2015-03-22
Packaged: 2018-03-19 02:55:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3593724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MalEldil/pseuds/MalEldil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Aeneid in an Steampunk alternate universe</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rosey Dawn

**Author's Note:**

> This is a work in progress. It's my first attempt at steampunk fiction. This work will update as time allows. The mature warning is in place so that I could write depictions of violence or sex without having to qualify if they are teen appropriate. You will not find in this work overt sexual descriptions of mild erotic fiction.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we meet the author, Juno rages against the fleeing Trojans, Aeolus releases the winds

The sirens on the stage were playing old war songs. Through the haze of smoke and warm ale, Publius was hearing tales of heroic deeds and heroic men. Sitting on an ancient wooden bench in the far corner of the pub, fountain pen clenched in his teeth, he stared at the words in front of him.

 _If only I had paid closer attention to Latin at school._ he thought, as the text in front of him swirled in the alcoholic fog clouding his brain. He had received the note in the morning's post. His patron, the Royal, had requested his special services with covering up the recent scandal. 

_It's not my fault he didn't bother to ask the lad's age before he decided to take him back to his estate for the weekend._ Yet there he sat, peering at the paper in front of him, trying to fashion a tale worth the telling. 

"Hard at work tonight, Love?"

Kitten, the barmaid, sidled next to him with a tray of empty pint glasses. Her filthy dress was covered by a filthier apron, and she had a large beauty mark on her cheek. This was part of her charm--this beauty mark. When Publius had first visited the establishment in question upon his arriving at the bottom of the social ladder, Kitten had worn the blemish on her chin. It wasn't until some drunken cabby had told her it looked like her mole had gone hairy that she made it a point of moving the spot to different places. The fact of the matter was that her chin was a bit hairy, and her placement of the beauty mark had been a poor attempt at drawing attention to more attractive parts of her anatomy. As Publius discovered after a week's flirtation, these were few and so he didn't mention that the black spot on her cheek looked as though she'd been dragged through a steam pipe backwards. Instead, he stared blankly from the page to the crimson lips and simply grunted affirmation.

"Tell me, my muse! How does one go about redirecting scandal from the public consciousness when every person in the Empire is aware of our current royal situation? Hmmm? Tell me, if you can, what makes the Queen so infuriated that she deems it necessary to hound her poor scion to ruin over the slightest deviation from the way of the righteous?"

Kitten's stare betrayed her ignorance. instead she simply looked at him expectantly?

A pause

"Is this a riddle? You know I'm not good at your riddles, deary."

"No, my sweet Caliope, this is simply the vague wanderings of a poor soul tossed about by gods until his soul settles for rest in some new home."

"Well, I'll leave you to it, love. Will you be staying late tonight: only the guv wants to know so he can get his payment in advance, see? You know," she paused here, "I have a table in my flat you could use for your writing, and it wouldn't cost you a dime, would it? Alls I ask is a kiss before you go, love. Let me know before the bell rings, won't you?" Publius watched her hurry off to deposit her tray of empty glasses of courage and sighed deeply. _Calypso's Island or Nausica's table? I wonder...._

The bells in the clock struck the hour and the bell at the bar clanged its warning. Publius hadn't so much as placed one stroke to paper and he was downcast. Kitten's rooms, he knew, were squalid, but they were warm--much warmer than his own bedchamber would be. It had been long since the marriage bed had warmed for him, and he could do with the inspiration that came from a dark and stormy night in a stranger's bedroom. Not that tonight was stormy, per se, but he could feel the change in the weather. He produced a case and clicked open the strong brass clasp in the center. The case was larger than a standard writing desk and had a large gauge in the center of the lid and a clock in the left hand corner of the same. Running the length of the case was an intricate coil. Opening the cage, Publius depressed a small black rubber bladder, forcing the reservoir of water to discharge its contents through a series of small pipes, causing the engine to purr and the coil along the outside of the case to vibrate and hiss as the pressure was dispersed among the various apparati.

Publius was very proud of this case. It had not been his own design, but he had made the necessary adjustments to the piping system to keep the clock running at a reliability which would make the most storied Geneva craftsman jealous. Carefully placing his writing tablet and fountain pen neatly in the carefully sculpted niches and drawers, he closed the lid without locking the clasp. He addressed his attention to the clock and the gauge--combination barometer, thermometer, anometer, and spirometer. Yes, a storm was coming. The pressure was dropping. Already the mercury was falling, and he could see that the exterior wind speed had increased. Standing under the sign of the Eros which declared the name of the public house to pedestrian traffic, he waited for Kitten to come through the door. Eyes upturned, he watched the storm clouds gather, and he knew where to begin. Slowly the constellations were obscured by the clouds rolling up the Thames: The Swan, the Lion, the Dragon, the Virgin, the Bears. He felt Kitten place her hand through his bent elbow and he was instantly back among the mortals, but instead of a bleak hopelessness, he felt the muse begin to work through him and it was so clear what needed to be done to create the glorious distraction he had been hired to compose. Even Kitten's nomadic mole was beautiful and he saw for the first time that her eyes were the deep green of a storm at sea. Suddenly, he wasn't looking into her eyes anymore, but through her to a ship at sea, a heroic captain calling to his helmsman to make a steady course keeping the land always in sight on their starboard. Now was the time to write. He followed the barmaid muse to her flat filled with filth and smelling of decay and smoke and set himself to writing while she busied herself with the fire in the cookstove to boil some water and freshen herself up after working all day around the stink and slime of London's lower classes. Even she had her dignity; and with the virile Publius at her table, there was reason for a girl to hope.

It hadn't been Helen's fault, but the gods blamed her. Juno knew it was Paris, and her breast burned with rage against Troy Station. Before Paris had chosen Venus over Juno as the most beautiful of the immortals, the rage and anger of the gods had been poured out on the people and surrounding land. When the battle ships and dirigibles had first appeared on the detector screens at Troy Station, the far seeing lookouts had forced a hart shut down of the system, assuming that the large blob on their sensors was created by a mistake in the system. By the time the fires had been stoked again and the machinery of the Station had once again whirred into life, the worst of times had already begun. The aerial campaign had been horrific, but had been only the beginning. It was the blockade at sea and land which had been the most painful to the people within the walls of the Station. When the locomotive lines had been cut off and the coal had stopped flowing into the city, the counsel of Elders had proposed that they sue for peace. It had been the brash Paris who had spoken up and declared that the gods would never allow the mighty Troy Station to be taken. It was, after all, the source of power for the entire empire. Without the commerce in and out of the station, then all of the automata in the Empire would be powerless within three years, not to mention the collapse of the Navy and the catastrophe it would be to the Imperial economy. No, his reasoning was that it was Priam and the governors of Troy Station which were holding the trump cards. It would only take patience.

Ten years later, the siege had ended, not with the glorious victory of the patient Trojan engineers and their clockwork soldiers. It had been the Station which had lost power; which had proven itself helpless before the wisdom and strategy of the Empire. The cogworks which had been the life of the city and the power of their defenses had seized as surely as water hardens in the snow. The flames of the city works had kindled again, but not with the coal and steam which had kept the city wealthy and omnipotent. The city burned with the flames and glinted with the light from the weaponry and the redoubled aerial attack as the gods had turned their favor towards the invading Graeco armies and Minerva herself, dressed in steel and bearing the Aegis had led the attack against the city while Mars howled from the ranks. It had been the shining brass of her helmet, the all-seeing vision of the lenses which she wore across her eyes, and the invincible defenses of her wisdom which stood tall on her raven hair like a helmet which had ultimately brought an end to Troy's arrogance.

Still Juno was not satisfied. She looked from her sky cart upon the ships carrying the fleeing Aeneas with the refugees from the Station upon their course across the Mare Nostrum. From the throne in the control room of her flying ship, she surveyed the land, read the fates, and her heart burned with fury. "Commander Argus!" Her voice was cold, her gaze stern and unyielding. Her commander of flight and trusted spy sat just below the dais at his controls: Argus of the many eyes, seeing the ways of men and gods with unsleeping vigilance. He turned towards the Queen of Heaven, pivoting the short stool to look from the skies beyond the observation window and towards the goddess and mother. He wore a flight helmet which fitted tightly to his round head. His goggles sat above his natural eyes as he faced the Queen. His uniform appeared covered with eyes--brass fastenings and clasps which held together the jacket as though his unblinking gaze was constantly viewing the world around him and storing the knowledge for later. "Commander Argus, what do you see when you look at the refugees from Troy Station?"

Argus turned his chair back to the brass spy scope at his station. Turning a small brass wheel, the lenses telescoped outwards and down through the clouds and to the great Sea below. "I see the Trojan ships, m'lady. The Ilium is captained by Aeneas, and around him are the other vessels which escaped the blockade." The memory of this escape kindled a flame in the mind of Argus. It was not wrong to call him the unsleeping and all-seeing one. He had served the Queen of Heaven faithfully these countless years, and yet the escaping Trojan steam ships had eluded his gaze and made it safely to see. The sea-foam green eyes of Venus had done the task. She had summoned a great fog and mist from the northern sea and it had blown down the coast towards the burning remains of the Station. Mixing with the smoke from the buildings and siege works, it had created a smog so dense that the flotilla of refugees had been able to pass completely unnoticed through the Graeco navy which had for so many years choked the way in and out of the station. The wretched Trojan people, huddled close to their savior captain had been well out to sea before Argus' powerful spy scope had spotted the trail from their smoke stacks as the great wheels churned and propelled the vessels out into the open water. "Below decks the women and children rest comfortably, keeping busy and praising the gods of their hearth fires."

"Look again, Commander. Do you see the gods they worship? Do they bow to the gods who conquered them, or do they offer their sacrifices and pledge allegiance to the defeated gods of Troy Station?"

Argus slowly adjusted the lens, bringing the image before him into focus and with his clear eyes he relayed all he saw to the goddess who sat livid upon her golden throne. "They pay their tribute to the gods of their defeated city, m'lady. The fires of Vesta burn gently in the coal stove and keeps the children warm with the glow of her protection."

The Queen and Mother stood with fury. She grasped the long scepter in her hand and screamed her rage at the clouds. Standing framed by the round window which looked out over the sky and sea, the goddess Juno raged against the insolent fools who dared to challenge her! She had read the fates, she knew the prophecy, and still her mind twisted with how to finally bring an end to the people who had so insulted her--to finally end Paris, that jackanapes who had dared to defy her and favor Venus as the fairest of all the goddesses. With Minerva at her side, she had razed Troy Station, slain its heroes, and orphaned its throne! Only to be defied by this fool Aeneas and his miserable stowaways. She looked down from the catwalk onto the array of scaffolding and platforms below her. Her nymphs and minor deities hard at work, keeping their attention averted from the raging goddess. She moved a toggle upwards and an automata--a dwarf--was lifted up through a dumbwaiter in the floor of her platform. She took the frothing ambrosia from its tray, and sent it back to its place with a flick of the same switch.

"Commander." She turned here gaze to Argus' station on her left. "Set a course to Aeolia. I must pay the King a visit. All available speed."

"As you wish, m'lady." Argus brought the long brass tube to his mouth and spoke into the narrow funnel at its end. He relayed the coordinates to navigation who in turn relayed to engineering, and the ship lurched sharply, causing assorted nymphs and minor deities to hold tight to the available handholds placed around the ship. Juno sat quietly back onto her throne, each hand grasping the head of the peacocks which flanked her on either side. She watched through the observation window as the clouds moved past as though driven back by fear from some approaching animal. She felt the ship reach its fullest speed and knew that she would shortly be arriving at the Mountain of Wind. Aeolus owed her nothing, she knew, but no slave is as useful as one seeking advancement.

It was Aeolus' youngest wife who reported to the throne room the shape of the goddess's airship above the clouds. The twelve wives of Aeolus had been resting in the solarium at the top of the palace, when the shadow had blocked out the sun. They knew, of course, at a glance who was commanding this wild chariot. She had blessed each of their marriages, had seen to it that they had born healthy children, and had been present at the crowing of their king and husband. This youngest bride was too young to remember with what power the winds had resisted the commands of Jupiter. Too young to know with what violence they had fought against the steel cages with which he had bound them. She knew, though, how much authority her husband had and trembled. It was only the Olympians who could call on him to release the winds, and his strong scepter ruled the furious cave which howled with their enclosure. 

The King of the Winds sat upon his gilded throne, holding a bronze scepter in his hand. It was long, taller than even he at full height. On one end was placed a cloud, symbol of his authority; on the other end, pointed to the earth, was a point so sharp and so hard it could pierce the very rock beneath his palace. She stood trembling at the entrance to his throne room and awaited his recognition. He was listening to the airwaves and seemed to be enjoying the music he could hear through the receiver near his throne. When he looked up and saw her standing there, he gently lowered his head and with a hand beckoned her to approach his throne.

"Wha' is it, my pet?" His voice raucous, but his hand gentle under her chins as he lifted her from the low curtsy she had made at the foot of the throne. His leather boots had padded softly down the marble steps, nails clacking on the soles of each as he descended. His hands were kept soft by constantly wearing leather gloves which he only took off for his wives.

"Sire, m'lord, _she_ is coming. _The Queen_." These last words whispered desperately. As he raised his eyebrows, she could see that he was surprised despite the dark blue-glass spectacles he wore. He adjusted his top hat and took out the quill feather fountain pen he always kept in the band and licked the nib. A habit of his when taking in new information.

"You don' say? An' you wur wurried s'e migh' be 'ere to...wot? I'm 'er faithful servant, as she knows, and nuthin' tuh fear from 'er." He looked up at the servants in the throne room, metal and flesh, which stood around the perimeter. "Prepare for a Royal Welcome, lads! The Queen's urrivun' and no mistake. Look smart!" The automata whizzed into life and the living beings moved quickly to prepare the entrance and throne room for the arrival of Juno's chariot. A group of living satyrs were dispatched to the landing pad and the mountain goats were penned in anticipation. Already the huge cook stove was being ignited and a choice meal prepared.

The great turbines which powered Juno's sky chariot were whirring to a steady drone as the brazen gangway lowered to the landing pad. The queen gently held the ropes which made up the railing with one hand, while peacock on a lead strutted in front of her towards solid ground. Above her, the sepia colored air ship hovered gently, not coming to a complete rest until after the goddess had fully disembarked. Once she was safely on _terra firma_ the crew would maneuver the sky ship into a landing pattern and it would be wheeled ever so gently to the hangers which framed the landing pad which Aeolus had constructed on a massive rocky outcrop overlooking the open sky and the precipice below. Juno descended, her scarlet traveling cloak was long and over her shoulder, her dress was bustled and pulled up short in the front, revealing the high laced boots which enclosed the goddess's mighty feet and calves. She wore short black lace gloves which she extended to Aeolus as he bowed low before his Queen and Mother.

"Yer ladyship is most welcome! With what grace you _h_ onor my 'umble 'ome."

Juno lifted her vassal with gentle pressure from her hand as she retracted it from the filthy gloves he always wore. Her eyes narrowed as she looked around the landing pad and the reception and honor guard standing nearby. She turned her nose slightly at his body odor as he sidled up next to her. Out of courtesy she took his arm and allowed herself to be escorted through the palace to the royal reception hall where the slaves were still busy tidying up and setting the table. "Aeolus, it really has been too long! I cannot believe how much your little wife has grown and matured since I was at your wedding banquet! I expect a child will be in order soon, and no doubt you have prepared the rites necessary for a strong, healthy son!" Aeolus smiled at his wife as they passed and kept his tone genial as his boot nails clacked along beside the strong, confident gate of Juno's heels against the marble.

"Aye, yer ladyship, we been raising the ox for sarcifice these past t'ree years, we 'ave. Soon as 'e's full growed we'll be preparing the birthing bed, I expect." Aeolus escorted the Queen up the dais to the throne, where he proffered his seat to her, and took his place on the low stool to her right. Clapping his gloved hands together, a gleaming automaton approaches the dais with a tray of mead and grapes. Juno gracefully takes the golden goblet and places it gently to her glittering lips. Her eyelids hang low over there beautiful round eyes and she drinks the proffered beverage with obvious pleasure. The supple ox hide corset which embraces her figure moves silently as she leans back against the throne and places the peacock's lead into the hands of a nearby metal satyr. With his grip firmly on the lead, she seamlessly turns off its power and he is frozen like a glittering statue and the goddess relaxes.

"Dear Aeolus, what a pleasure to once again be in your courts! How marvelously you have decorated and how beautifully you have adorned your palace walls. Please! summon your wives that they may sit with us and grace us with their company. It has been too long since last I saw their glowing faces, and I wish to bestow my blessings upon them." Her voice was as rich and smooth as the mead in the goblet, and Aeolus snapped to an orderly to go fetch the queens. He was on his guard. Juno was well known to have a short temper, and this looked to the wind god to be the calm before a rather nasty gale. He smiled politely as the goddess took another drink from her cup, draining the wine, and smiling sweetly with her honeyed lips at the rough throne room atop the prison which held the winds. When the queens had assembled, Juno rose and greeted each in turn, calling them by name and bestowing her blessing on them. Turning to Aeolus she began, "You have hard, no doubt, about the recent unpleasentness at Troy? You know what a thrilling victory it was for those of us so wounded by the poor judgment of Paris. I must say, things worked out very nicely for all those faithful to Juno and to Minerva. A family man--such as yourself--should be pleased to see marriage so defended by all the powers of Olympus!" Her eyes were fire, though her voice was smooth and cool.

"Indeed, y'r ladyship." Aeolus took an awkward look around the room at his wives.

"You have also observed that Aeneas and a rag-tag flotilla of ships have escaped based the Graeco blockade and is now making its way across Mare Nostrum towards Latinum? He bears with him the fires of Vesta and the defeated gods of Troy Station! He still offers homage and praise to these gods in the face of their defeat, and would seek to re-establish the arrogance of the Trojans in my precious Latinum! No people do I love so much as the small villages and walled cities of Latinum, and he would overthrow them and create a new Troy Station, equally arrogant and dangerous as the first! And then what would happen? Who would dare to offer Juno a sacrifice or to hold festival in her honor, if she cannot even defend her own honor against those who so brazenly insult her!" Her firsts were tight and her eyes pierced. Her voice had risen an octave, and Aeolus could see that it was best he remain silent. Adjusting the hat which acted as his crown, he breathed slowly, waiting for the Queen to speak again.

"Your wives! They are lovely, Aeolus! A garden full of precious flowers." Her smile was forced and her voice was cloying. "I think you shall continue to cultivate a fine family by each of them. How would it be if I offered you a special favor? Perhaps? A special gift to my most faithful servant!" Her fingers snapped, and out of her retinue a slender nymph--dark and graceful--approached her side. The dress she wore was simple, functional, a stark contrast to the tool and bustle of the Queen's ornate traveling costume. Her figure was long and curvaceous without all of the accessories which transformed the goddess from woman to formidable queen. Aeolus saw all this and distractedly wiped the corner of his mouth with his finger, cupping his beard and chin in the palm of his hand. He was visibly panting, if ever so slightly, at the image of the young nymph before him.

"Now, Aeolus, I have a request. It was to you, and you alone, that Jove gave the power over this prison. You were placed upon your gilded throne and hold that scepter by the authority of the Father of gods and men. Hear me, Juno--wife of Jupiter, daughter of Saturn--I speak to you not as a suppliant but as your queen. Release the four winds. Raise the sea gales. Show all those who would dare raise their heads above the gods that there is no power on earth which can withstand our own. Bring Aeneas and his Trojan vagabonds to Neptune and allow him to sort out their fates. Do this for your queen. Do this and show the world your might."

Aeolus stood still, eyes still fixed on the dark nymph standing nearby. He heard her words, and his mind went to the cave beneath his palace where the winds fought and screamed against their prison bars. He felt the scepter in his left hand, balanced the point against the granite floor of his palace. He turned his mind to Juno, "Y'r ladyship--ma'rm--I have been given this position by the great Thunder Lord hisself. He entrusted me alone with the keepin' a' the fa'r winds. I canno' but by his command release 'em. And not 'gainst Aeneas whom fate 'as so recently favored."

Juno's eyes froze him. Her lids dropped and her look was as sharp as a knife. When she spoke, her voice was honey, but there was poison behind the words. "Do this for me, Wind God, and there is nothing I won't do for you. You see here Diaopea--fairest of my retinue. She is yours. I bless your bed again with a lovely bride and your house again with brave and valiant sons. Do this, and Juno is in your debt. Do this thing, and there is nothing I can deny you."

Aeolus was taken in by her smooth words and the spell of the lovely nymph worked its magic into his brain. Grasping the scepter-spear in both hands, he dashed to the far end of the throne room. There, encased in metal, the peak of the mountain protruded into the throne room. There, to guard against their escape, the winds were kept. Aeolus stood, hefting the bronze scepter in both hands and struck the rock. The spear went deep into the granite, triggering the device which opened the mouth of the cave. Cogs and wheels turned and ancient doors screamed in protest as they turned on rusted hinges. Soon the mountaintop and the world were filled with the wailing winds whooshing down from their lofty prison towards the unwary and innocent fleeing people of the ruined Troy.

It took the winds no time to rouse the storm. The waves, the clouds, Jove's thunder all took their turn to wreck and crash against the fleeing Trojan ships. Their power wheels turned desperately and churned the dark waves which rose like mountains in front and behind them. On all sides, they were attacked, and the watchmen saw the depths of the ocean beneath them as they fell into the trough of the waves. First one ship was lost, and then another. It was then that Neptune rose from the great waves, his water carriage decorated with wild horses as an ancient chariot. He rose like a whale from the depths of the sea, and saw the ruin his violent sister had done. The glass dome of his submersible retracted and he stood tall above the waves, calling to the winds and commanding them to return to their prison. His words rose against the howl of the winds and the crash of the waves, and with a gesture of his hand all had returned to calm again. Too late to save the lost souls aboard the two lost ships, but he saw to it that the remaining vessels made safe harbor against the nearby coast.

Aeneas woke with the dawn spreading rosy fingers across the sky. The light glinted from the burnished metal of the ships safely moored in the inlet the gods had directed them into. He saw that they had lost two of their compliment along with all their crew and the suffering and discouraged refugees. Weeping sadly in his heart, he called out to the leaders of the people who had been able to escape the conflagration which had been their last view of Troy Station. As each man and woman gathered together around him, he asked for each to take stock of the supplies and to tend to any wounded. "I need to go and look where we are. This may be an island, or this may be mainland. For my life, I cannot tell which. I'm going to make for the copse you see through the trees further inland. I want to survey the area and see if there are any people about." Placing a telescope in his belt, he shouldered a crossbow and made for the wood which stood at the far end of the beach.


End file.
